


My Heart's Still Pounding

by dancinbutterfly



Series: Justified [4]
Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Military, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Dorks, Failboats, Fighting, First Dates, First Meetings, Flirting, Lust at First Sight, M/M, Miscommunication, References to Billy's in-fic history and all that implies, Waffle House: A Southern Gothic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-07 02:42:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11049627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancinbutterfly/pseuds/dancinbutterfly
Summary: Once upon a time, a soldier and a hustler met outside a bar. Then they had dinner. Everything else is history - except it's not even close to that simple. With Billy Rocks and Goodnight Robicheaux, nothing ever is.





	My Heart's Still Pounding

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so so much to fontainbleux for checking this and to Babou for literally everything. Seriously. Couldn't do this without you.

> **Carol Johnson:** My heart's still pounding. Wanna feel?  
>  **Raylan Givens:** You've had enough fun for today.
> 
> \- Justified 2.08 _The Spoil_

* * *

**Fall - Sometime in the Mid-90s**

* * *

_Goody is falling asleep on his stool when a resounding crash shatters the lazy mood of the bar._

_His unit had gotten back from a week-long training exercise in the freaking Mojave Desert and he’s got very little left to give. They’d had less than a day to recover at Ft. Bliss before going wheels up again, back to Ft. Benning and all told, he’s been awake for almost 24 straight hours after seven grueling days of demanding physical and mental labor and then a six-hour flight, his ass thoroughly kicked with jet lag to boot._

_He’s only at this shitty bar because Eddy had managed to sleep like a baby on the flight and dragged his ass out for a “night on the town” which amounts to drinking beer and eating onion rings in a place like Ft. Benning. The man had caught him round the neck and physically dragged him to his shit little Dodge and Goody could only have gotten out of it by punching the guy in the nuts and his arms ached too much from exertion to be worth the effort. Especially not since Eddy was buying._

_Eddy's been flirting with the girl in a low-cut blouse sitting on his other side for about half an hour, having forgotten Goody entirely. His second beer is getting lukewarm and he only wants to go back to his barracks, take a hot shower and not get out of bed for at least sixteen hours. Maybe twenty. Twenty-two._

_The commotion is what jolts him back to combat readiness. Adrenaline races through his blood as he spins to face the noise, the heavy lethargy flushed from his body like water through a drain._

_A gorgeous, thin-framed Korean man his age with razorblade cheekbones and short hair that falls in his eyes is standing next to an overturned table and chair. Shattered glass glitters on the ground at his feet. Half a dozen grunts (must be privates because none of them look more than nineteen) are boxing him in. One of them says something that Goody doesn’t fully hear except for the words “fucking faggot” before the gorgeous man hits one of the grunts in the face._

_The kid reels back and just like that, the other five are on him. Goody watches them deliver punch after punch in Gorgeous’ general direction and while there are some definite hits, most of them don’t land._

_Gorgeous is not being stupid like the grunts and wasting all his punches on face shots that are going to hit bone. He goes for solid blows to the places that are easiest to hurt - the gut and the sides and the balls and the throat._

_Goody’s first impulse is to jump in but he knows better than to cut in on another man’s fight when he’s not needed. He watches in awe as Gorgeous takes them all down with impressive speed. They’re on the ground a few minutes later, either groaning in pain or unconscious. Unfortunately, the bartender has pulled his shotgun from underneath the bar and now has it pointed at Gorgeous._

_“I think you better be heading outside, son,” the bartender says, clear and careful. “I know you didn’t start that shit but I can’t have you in my bar anymore either.”_

_Gorgeous nods. He picks up a jacket from off the floor and walks out the door without looking back._

_Goody is on his feet a moment later and scrambling after the fighter, though a little slower than he’d like, because holy shit. Holy shit. He has never been impressed and aroused at the same time. It’s kind of dizzying and he can’t let the man who caused it get away._

_Thankfully, he finds Gorgeous standing in the parking lot under one lonely lamp. As Goody approaches, he spits bloody onto the asphalt and rubs at his mouth with the back of his sleeve._

_“Good evening,” Goody says and Gorgeous looks up with eyes that glitter in the dark. “I’m Goodnight Robicheaux. I saw your display in there and I had to come give my regards. It was a sight.”_

_Gorgeous narrows his eyes. “Excuse me?”_

_“You’re dangerous, clearly self-taught but you fight smart and you strike faster than a viper and harder than a sledge hammer. It was a joy to watch and I wanted to thank you for the privilege.”_

_Gorgeous stares at him for a moment then leans over to spit again. It comes out foamy pink but somehow, Goody gets the impression that he wasn’t trying to clear his mouth._

_“Are you on drugs?” Gorgeous asks seriously. “Because I’ve got about seven bucks and I need it for food so if you want to steal from somebody, just wait for one of those assholes to come out. Those fucking khakis can spare it.”_

_Everything about him screams Army except his ratty jeans and torn Ziggy Stardust t-shirt. Even his jacket is from his BDUs with Robicheaux stitched on it so he doesn’t let himself be offended by that. The food thing sticks._

_“Let me buy you dinner.”_

_“What?”_

_“Dinner. I want to buy you dinner.”_

_“Seriously?” Gorgeous is incredulous. “It’s almost midnight.”_

_“We can go to that Waffle House down the road.” Goody offers. It’s less than half a klick away and the Awful Waffle was always a safe bet. “Open twenty-four, seven, three-sixty-five.”_

_Gorgeous narrows his eyes and studies him. Goody has no idea what he’s looking for. He seems to find it though because he nods. “I’ll meet you there.”_

_The only reason he doesn’t speed is because getting a ticket, or worse hauled into the drunk tank for what he’s sure is his ragged look and possibly borderline-high blood alcohol content (he can typically drink well but he always burns off a lot of weight on longer exercises) could derail what he hopes is going to be, if nothing else, an entertaining meal. If Gorgeous actually shows up, that is. He may very well not. He had the look of a kicked dog about him, wary of an outstretched bone for fear of being kicked_ again _. He’s seen more than his fair share of soldiers with that look, who came to the Army because they’d been kicked a few too many times and didn’t want to be defenseless again. He’s got brothers in his unit who hide that look under their laughs and their easy firing stances but he does know it. He would understand if that kept that lovely fighter away, even if he would be so terribly disappointed._

_When he arrives, he’s greeted by a girl who cannot possibly be more than seventeen if she’s a day, with frizzy red hair pulled back into a ponytail under the black Waffle House visor and big brown eyes. She tilts her head, silently asking where he’s sitting and he slides into one of the booths instead of either the high or low counters._

_“Can I get you anything?” she asks. Her name tag declares her to be Cara Lynne as she pulls the plastic menu out of the holder on the table and sets it in front of him. “Water?”_

_“Water would be lovely. And a coffee, please, with milk, none of that fake creamer stuff.”_

_“Sure. Just you?”_

_He smiles at her and shrugs. “We’ll see.”_

_She returns with his coffee, water, a glass of milk for a child that is honestly far more than he needs, and silverware. “Can I get you anything else?”_

_“As I said, we’ll have to see. Thank you so much for now, Cara Lynne. You’ve been very helpful.”_

_That makes her smile, a flash of metal with bright pink rubber bands. She nods and scurries away towards the grill to talk to a man in a paper hat and an apron who is scraping at the stovetop with a metal tool._

_He waits through two more cups of coffee, six new customers, and more terrible country songs than he can keep track of before he spots Gorgeous through the tall windows that form the exterior walls. Nearly an half hour passes and Goody had mostly convinced himself that the man changed his mind about dinner. He’d stayed though, out of sheer, stubborn, hope._

_He tries admirably not to sag into the bench when the door swings open and Gorgeous steps through. He scans the room until he spots Goodnight and walks over, sliding in across from him and grabbing a menu from the side of the table without saying a word._

_“Thought you might have gotten lost.”_

_“No.”_

_“I’m glad you came.”_

_Gorgeous shrugs one shoulder, “It’s not that long a walk and the food’s cheap.”_

_“Which doesn’t matter, because as I said, dinner is on me.” Goody pauses as he processes the rest of it. “Wait? You walked here.”_

_“Wasn’t far.”_

_Well that’s… something. Goody doesn’t know what. He shouldn’t be surprised. Hadn’t Gorgeous said he didn’t have money for food? Why would the man have a car? Now he feels like a complete shit. “I’d have given you a ride.”_

_“I didn’t ask for one.” Gorgeous continues staring down at the menu for a moment before flipping it over to study the back. After a moment, he says “Is it still dinner if it’s technically morning?”_

_“Depends on if you assign breakfast to time of its literal definition or breaking a fast, I suppose. If so, then isn’t every meal breakfast?”_

_One dark, perfectly arched eyebrow quirks up at him. “You’re kind of a pedantic asshole, aren’t you?”_

_That startles a laugh out of Goody. Oh, God. He is in so much trouble._

_~*~*~_

_The pretty, blue-eyed soldier boy with the sandy brown hair cut high and tight, Goodnight, (a name he remembers because of all the random things he’s heard these army guys call themselves, Goodnight has an elegance that feels out of place) watches as Billy orders from the red-headed tween waitress. It’s hilarious to watch his jaw drop further and further as the size of the order grows but fuck it. Seriously. He honestly can’t remember the last time someone bought him dinner._

_Nebraska maybe? Or was it Kansas? He cannot keep the prairie states straight. They all look the same and feel the same and have names that don’t mean anything to him._

_He’d order everything on the menu if he could, shove it in the mini-fridge in the extended-stay hotel room he’s barely affording and live on it for a month. As it stands, he gets three All Star Meals (all the eggs scrambled, all the waffles pecan, the meat one each of a ham, a sausage and bacon that he plans to eat here - because that shit doesn’t keep, one of the sides hash browns with onions and ham, the other two grits that he hates but that will keep better, the toast a mix of wheat and cinnamon raisin), two patty melts, two double cheeseburgers, three T-bone steaks, a chicken sandwich, pork chops, and two bowls of chili. By the time he’s done, Goodnight and the waitress are gaping at him._

_“Did you get all that?” He asks her._

_“I…” She tries then shakes her head, her ponytail swishing behind her._

_“Where’d you get lost?”_

_“Um.” She looks like she’s going to cry._

_Fuck. He hates it when girls cry. He’s seen enough crying girls to last a thousand lifetimes. “It’s okay. Just tell me what you’ve got and we’ll fill in the rest. Don’t worry.”_

_She nods, takes a deep breath and squares her shoulders. She reels them off in perfect code and comes to a stop halfway through the split between toast types. “I, um, I got lost after that. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to.” She looks a little panicked which is not a good look on her with all those freckles and the terrible black and white striped shirt of the uniform she has to wear. “There’s just so much.”_

_He gives her a gentle smile._

_“Well, you already got most of the tricky parts. We’ll go through it again slower. You’re good.”_

_She beams at him as he wraps up his order. She turns to Goodnight looking a bit more confident, smiling a bit wider and her shoulders a bit farther back._

_“And for you sir?” she asks, her tone clear and strong._

_“Cara Lynne, all I need is a waffle. And a little more coffee if it wouldn’t put you out.”_

_“It’s okay. I’ll put in ya’ll’s orders in just a sec,” she says, before heading to the cook, and calling out orders in code that only vaguely resemble what they actually told her. Billy notices that she doesn’t say that their meal will be out soon and thinks that someone either trained her well or she’s a pretty smart kid._

_He’s not thrilled that she’s gone though, because it leaves him alone with Goodnight the Soldier Boy. His mouth is no longer gaping open now, but pursed into a small smile._

_“That was nice of you.”_

_Billy rolls his eyes. “It was complicated. She was trying.”_

_Goodnight’s smile doesn’t widen on his lips but small creases form at the corners of his eyes. “She was,” he agrees. “But you didn’t have to.”_

_Billy does not fidget in his seat but his knee wants to bounce just a little under the table. He resists only because fucking Waffle House bolts its booths to the same little plastic wall. If he shook, Goodnight would feel it. “I guess.”_

_An awkward silence stretches between them. Billy doesn’t bother breaking it. He’s just here to eat, not to chat._

_Goodnight finally ends the lull. He chuckles and asks, “So, where the hell are you going to put all that?”_

_Billy shrugs. He’s only going to eat the bacon and eggs, maybe one of the orders of toast. Maybe. Everything else is going to keep really well. Congealed, sure, but still it’ll probably only put Goodnight the Soldier Boy back 50, maybe 75 bucks. Cheaper than his usual rate but with his face beat to shit and the sidewalks of Ft. Benning and Columbus rolled up, his pull wasn’t going to get any better than what Goodnight the Soldier Boy is offering ‘til tomorrow_

_“Oh come on. You can’t just sit there. You take down a half dozen grunts in a redneck bar, walk the two miles here, then order everything on the menu? You are terribly intriguing, mon ami. You’ve got to give me something. A name at least.”_

_“Billy Rocks.”_

_Goodnight tilts his head for a moment before straightening his head. “Nah, you’re lying. That’s not your name,” he says coolly. Billy tenses up, waiting for…something but Goodnight just laughs. “Lord, you’re a terrible liar. Is that why you’re so quiet? Because you’ve got an exceptional poker face but you’re a shit liar.”_

_Billy is more than a little stunned. This is the first time anyone has been even remotely skeptical of anything about him since he rolled out of Boyd Crowder’s truck and onto the dirt of this shithole Army town a month ago. No one else has commented on the fact that two Anglo names don’t really fit a man with his eyes, his skin, his hair, and his careful English that had so little accent it was its own give away. No one but this man._

_Normally, this would be where he would take a deep breath and breathe out the tension but Goodnight is watching him. He’d see that weakness so he scrambles for the best thing he can think he can think of - the truth._

_“You didn’t ask for my name. You asked for a name.”_

_That makes Goodnight laugh again. The man seems to think everything Billy says is hilarious. He can’t decide if that’s annoying or not._

_“And now who’s the pedantic asshole?”_

_“I picked it, I answer to it, so it’s mine.”_

_“Now, that’s true. I prefer Goody myself. Goodnight sounds like some kind of fanciful caricature of a southern gentleman. I get too dirty too often to be a Goodnight.” He smiles. “Billy Rocks, though, sounds like a man not to be trifled with.”_

_Billy’s skin crawls at how well Goodnight, Goody, Soldier Boy with big blue white-boy eyes and peeling sunburned skin has read him. “You talk like a fucking caricature so maybe you should stick to that, Goodnight.”_

_“Well, I was always partial to language arts in high school, Billy.” Goody shoots back. “How about you?”_

_“What about me?”_

_“What did you like in school?”_

_Billy stalls by picking up his water and taking a sip. It’s not just a tactic: the question made his throat go dry. It’s hard to answer that his favorite was computers but that he hasn’t had real access to one since the 80s because he’d been forced to run for his fucking life with what only amounted to an unfinished 8th grade education._

_Goody just waits him out, patient and interested. “I was decent at math.”_

_“Me too.” He smiles. “Never my favorite but turned out so useful. My job’s all numbers and sitting around. What about you?”_

_“What about me?”_

_“What do you do?”_

_This, at least, Billy has an answer to. “Customer service.”_

_“Dreadful. People are terrible.”_

_Billy’s saved from having to answer that by Cara Lynne returning with a half a dozen plates, five of which she sets down in front of him. They fill up most of the whole table. The sixth is a waffle which she puts carefully down in front of Goody, making sure it fits without falling off the edge. “The rest is on the grill but I’ll just, um,” she glances around, chewing on her lower lip in thought. “I’ll just keep it on the prep station until you’re ready?”_

_“That’s fine,” Billy assures her, digging in. Fuck, he’s hungry. He’s been living on Slim Jims and the complimentary coffee and cookies at open AA meetings around town and base for what feels like a geologic age. “This is good.”_

_“And your coffee, right? I didn’t forget.”_

_“I didn’t think you did, darlin’. Take your time.”_

_She gives him a big, bright smile and darts away, coming back with a coffee pot for a split second before disappearing again. She makes Billy dizzy._

_“That is a rough gig.” Goody sighs, watching her go. “And I say that as someone who’s been shot at.”_

_Billy’s attention is pulled back, not enough to slow him down but hey, he’s back in the conversation. “You were in the Gulf?”_

_Goody nods, cutting his waffle into careful sections with a degree of preciousness that makes Billy want to reach across the table and take his knife away from him. “It was a hot mess. Literally. If I never see another grain of sand as long as I live it’d be too soon.”_

_“You don’t look old enough.”_

_Smiling at him, Goody pops a bite of a waffle in his mouth. “Why thank you. I’m twenty-four.”_

_“Kid.” Billy snorts into his eggs. They’re good, hot and soft but not runny and the toast is hearty and the bacon is crispy and perfect. The distance this will carry him is present in the very taste. Every bite is its own kind of relief._

_He keeps up with the news, knows that right now Bukhan is in the middle of a goddamn famine on a scale that can’t really be known from the outside. He thinks it’s funny, that he left home to have a better life away from that kind of catastrophe, yet here he is, he’s starving in the land of plenty. He wonders if this guy knew what it was like to be hungry even when he was at war. He doesn’t think so._

_“Oh, and you’re old enough to drink?” Goody shoots back._

_“Twenty-five.”_

_“Well there you go,” Goody declares. He stabs his fork into a piece just so he can wave it at Billy._

_“Where am I going?”_

_“You’re only a year older than me. That’s nothing.” He leans forward. “That haircut ain’t exactly regulation.”_

_“No. It’s definitely not.”_

_“So not ex-Army, then.”_

_Billy shakes his head and works on his food. The hash browns are crispy on the top and bottom and soft inside._

_“Not unless someone’s messing with me more than I’m used to.”_

_“That’d be the way someone would mess with you, travel through time and alter your past, Marty McFly style?” Goody asks. “Or are we talking about a memory rewrite, Total Recall situation?”_

_Billy snorts. Now Goody the Soldier Boy is speaking his language. Billy doesn’t have a job in any legal sense and he’s pretty much a few days away from being homeless at any given moment. He isn’t well educated and he’s not that friendly but there isn’t a movie or show released on cable that he hasn’t seen at least once - if not a dozen times._

_“No one would put that much work into just messing with my head. Definitely time travel but more like Biff, going in and meddling intentionally just to fuck me over.”_

_“Back to the Future II - a man of taste, I see.”_

_There’s a hint of teasing in Goody’s tone but Billy doesn’t really see what’s funny. “If you’re going to make a comparison, make the right one.”_

_Goody beams at him. “Ha. I am definitely not the pedantic one of us, am I?”_

_Billy glares at him. His smile lit up his whole face, made him look somehow shiny. He’s never met a person with shine on them before. “I wanted some specificity.”_

_“I did notice that,” Goody agrees, still beaming. “So for the sake of specificity, if it’s not army and it isn’t time travel, than what it is it?”_

_“What is what?” Fuck, now he’s lost again. Also, he suddenly realizes that at some point in all that chatter Cara Lynne came back and took Goody’s empty plate and the one that had had his bacon on it and whisked both away without them noticing._

_“Your reason for being in Ft. Benning. I’ve been stationed here for nearly nine months and you are definitely new.”_

_Ah. He drags his fork through the mess on his plate. “Got stuck I guess.”_

_“Yeah?”_

_“Yeah,” Billy agreed, glancing down at the plate. It’s mostly empty and Goody finished too. He looks over and waves Cara Lynne over. “Can I get everything else to-go? Check’s on him by the way.”_

_Cara Lynne looks at the table, then at the prep bar and then bursts out laughing. She snorts when she giggles but it’s high pitched and cute. “Oh lord, that’s genius,” she chokes out, pressing her order pad to her chest. “I mean,” she clears her throat and wipes at her eyes with the heel of her right hand. “Of course, ya’ll are.” She pauses and licks her lips before she asks “You going to need a bag for all that?” and then starts laughing again._

_“Definitely. Double bag it even.” Extra plastic almost always had some kind of use one way or another, in his experience._

_She gives the both a salute, which he guesses from the way Goody ducks his chin is probably pretty well executed and gets to work. When she’s gone, quiet reigns again._

_Billy drags his fingers through his hair, starting at the front and going slow and messy. Goody’s blue eyes follow every movement and it sends a spike of…something…buzzing up and down Billy’s arms. The hair stands on end and he curses white boys and their blue eyes._

_Well, he figures, at least this part’s not going to be awful. Probably._

_“I’m going to go to the bathroom.”_

_Goody nods, planting his elbows on the table. He laces his fingers together and rests his mouth against his knuckles and keeps his gaze locked on Billy as he walks away._

_Billy gets inside the bathroom and hangs his jacket up on the door. He looks at himself in the mirror and sighs. His lower lip is split which is going make sucking dick uncomfortable but he looks good. Well, good enough. He’s got the start of a black eye and cut on his cheek but it’s a hot kind of beaten up, like Kurt Russell or Bruce Lee. He can work with it. He wets his hands and drags them through his hair to complete the picture, then waits, leaning against the far wall of the large single room that makes up the bathroom (the space alone being another reason Waffle Houses were a pretty good spot to hit up whenever the chance arose)._

_Only Goody never shows up. Billy looks at the lock, checks the door and yeah, it’s unlocked. He frowns and decides to give it one more minute. Okay, ninety seconds. Or one-hundred. It’s a rounder number._

_He comes out when he hits one-hundred-and-one. Aside from Cara Lynne and the cook chatting by the grill, Goody is the only person in the restaurant. He’s sitting at the booth, working on what is probably a brand new cup of coffee. The table is covered in white bags filled with plastic containers and just…What? The? Fuck?_

_He walks quickly to Goody’s side and clears his throat._

_Goody blinks up at him, curious. “How goes there, my friend? Thought maybe you fell in.”_

_“You not coming?”_

_“I’m fine for now,” Goody replies with a smile. He holds up his coffee. “Though I may need to hit the latrine when I finish this one off.”_

_Billy gapes at him. Seriously, how stupid was he? “No. Are. You. Coming?”_

_Goody blinks. “Beg pardon?”_

_“Are you new?”_

_Goody laughs ruefully. “I think I must be.”_

_“To the bathroom,” Billy whispers. “For me to blow you, you idiot.”_

_Pink floods Goody’s ears and spreads down his neck so fast it must set a land-speed record. It’s impressive that it’s even visible given that sunburn._

_“I, cher, I am so, I’m really interested and I want to- I’d really- I just-“_

_All right. So, the soldier boy is a total fucking loser. Interesting._

_Billy folds his arms over his chest_

_“Take your time.”_

_He waits as Goody takes a deep breath and steadies himself. “I don’t do that on the first date.”_

_Okay, seriously this time. What the fucking fuck? “What the fuck?”_

_“And as gorgeous as you are, and you are so gorgeous, I don’t have words, Billy Rocks, I like to take it a bit slow with people I’m interested in.” He beams. “I’m glad you want to because I do. I want to, just, maybe after next time if we’re ready but I don’t think this is the time. Do you, really? ”_

_Billy opens and closes his mouth a few times, feeling like a dying fish and sinking back into the booth before his voice finally returns. “It’s for dinner.”_

_“What?”_

_“For dinner. You got me dinner, I give you head. Fair trade.”_

_Horror rushes over Goody’s features so fast it’s like a switch has been flipped. Billy sags into the seat. Yeah, he’s gotten this reaction before. When he doesn’t get taken up on his offers, disgust and repulsion at what he is the only other response. He’s used to it._

_“Oh. Oh shit. You were working.”_

_“Trying to,” Billy agrees. “Your fellow soldiers weren’t particularly thrilled at the idea of having to pay for the privilege.”_

_“Oh my god,” Goody whispers, still sounding appalled. “I’m so sorry.”_

_Billy shrugs. Pity. He hasn’t gotten any pity since that immigration case worker Yeon-mi tried to introduce him to noticed his shoes were held together with duct tape back when he was nine-teen. It’s refreshing at least. “It’s fine.”_

_“No, it’s not. You were working and I interrupted.” Goody says, his tone achingly sincere. “I’m so sorry, Billy. I got in the way of your livelihood. I didn’t mean to do that.”_

_Oh. The disgust and dismay and horror are still there but Billy can see them clearly now. They’re not directed at him but are turned inward on Goody himself for, what, doing harm to Billy? Yeah. Yeah, that’s what that is. He doesn’t know how to deal with that._

_“It’s alright,” he says softly, feeling strangely outside himself._

_“No, it’s not,” Goody says firmly. “No one interrupts an op and keeps me from completing my missions. I shouldn’t have done it to you.”_

_“You’re a warrior.”_

_“And what are you?”_

_“A whore.” He hasn’t said that word out loud in…a long time. Not since_ they _still had him, actually. Back then the word hadn’t been true, just one more thing forced out of him, like everything else. A slave wasn’t a whore. A slave was a fucking slave. Whores at least made a profit, had some choice._

_“You’re a man making a living just like anyone else. Selling pleasure’s no less respectable than selling death.” Goody smiles. “Better if you ask me.”_

_“I didn’t.”_

_“And yet, I’m sharing anyway. Surely you’ve noticed that I throw my thoughts out into the world willy nilly regardless of who wants to hear them.”_

_Despite himself, Billy smiles at him. “I have.”_

_“Considering I took you off the clock involuntarily, dinner is the very least I can do. Dinner and apologies.” Goody tips his head. “I had no idea, Billy. I really didn’t. I just wanted to get to know you.”_

_“I’m getting that.” He laughs, a little strangled. “You were asking me on a date?”_

_“Well, I wasn’t_ asking _nor was I_ telling _you that if you said yes to a date, that I would be thrilled.” He slumps. “But yes. Yes I was. I’d have been happy with a friend, though. Would still be happy with a friend. You seem like a man it would be prudent to befriend.”_

_Billy has no idea what to say to that but that strange buzzing feeling in his arms has raised to full on goosebumps. It’s spreading up across his shoulders and down his spine. He doesn’t know what to do with it._

_Of course, most of his life has consistently been based on charging forward blind and hoping for the best since he got his freedom. He’s still alive so he figures that means it works for him._

_“What would that entail?”_

_“What would what entail?”_

_“A date?”_

_A smile brighter than the sun at noon on a cloudless day over Ft. Benning in summer lights Goody’s face. “Depends on your interests. Dinner and a movie, perhaps? There’s a few nice places down the interstate out of town that aren’t particularly inhabited if nature’s more your taste. Anything really.”_

_Anything. Billy turns that around for a second. “I like movies.” He’s only seen a few in actual theaters. “Like…at the AMC in Columbus?”_

_“Yep. And something better than Waffle House after. Or before. I’m easy.”_

_“I’m getting that.”_

_“So it’s a date?”_

_Billy shakes his head but it isn’t in denial. He’s never been on a date (he doesn’t count this mess). “Yeah. Yeah, I guess. Why not?”_

_That earns him another sunshine smile. “Fantastic. One caveat.”_

_Billy sighs. There was always something._

_“And what’s that?”_

_“Don’t order like this again,” Goody says, waving a hand at the table. “If you’re going to manipulate me for food, do it at a grocery store. No waitstaff will be traumatized in the process and I can get milk and bananas while we’re there.”_

_It takes a long time for Billy to figure out if Goody is serious but, he decides, it doesn’t matter. Either way, that response is fantastic, possibly the best thing he’s heard in years. He starts laughing, really laughing, like he hasn’t done with anyone but Yeon-mi since he left all his school friends behind on Bukhan._

_Oh, fuck, he thinks as he wipes tears of laughter away from his eyes so he can look at the grinning blue eyes of Goody the Soldier Boy. He is in so much trouble._

**Author's Note:**

> **Notes:**
> 
>   * Waffle House. Oh man. Here's the thing about the South yall. There is no institution more quintessentially southern than a waffle house. People will argue about mom and pop places but if you go anywhere in the south, you can find a Waffle House. They're all the same -greasy, rich, too much, delicious, overly lit, cheap, open 24/7 even on federal holidays with single bathrooms, the same basic layout of high counters with spinning metal stools, low counters with chairs, and a series of booths with an open kitchen and grill that you can see from any where in the restaurant, a yellow/black/white color scheme, and the same southern fair no matter how large or small the size of the particular franchise. No state in the union has more Waffle Houses than Georgia. None. My first job ever was as a waitress at a waffle house. It's a garbage job at a garbage place but it's a fucking staple. If you've never been, go. If you have been, you can close your eyes and picture it right now, can't you? Yeah. It's one of Those Places. It really is. 
>   * In the 90s, North Korea experienced a horrific drought and famine which was later called The Arduous March. The death toll ranges from the hundreds of thousands to the millions but the fall of the Soviet Union, it's biggest trade partner and ally in socialist/communist ideology, combined with the fact that North Korea is mountainous and not particularly great at self-sufficiency and the natural factors created a perfect storm of destruction. Some say the country still hasn't bounced back. Hard to say though, as the hermit kingdom isn't big on sharing but as far as I can tell, people were aware there was a famine going on, although not to the extent that it was reported afterwards as the Arduous March itself is a codeword to keep people from finding out what was going on.
>   * Ft. Bliss in California is a desert training base in the Mojave Desert. I have no idea what actually goes on out there but shit, yall, it doesn't look like a fun time.
>   * The US had this thing called the Persian Gulf War - where we fucked around in the Middle East to help Kuwait on behalf of our "allies" but idek. I was like 4, it lasted less than a year and was the "unspoken" the reason W thought it would be a good idea to go back over and fuck shit up 10 years later and put is in this endless fucking situation we're stuck in now. However, that is not meant to be a reflection on Goodnight, Boyd or anyone else as soldiers don't have a lot of say in the wars their countries wage. Let's leave it at that.
>   * Rest in peace, my sweet space prince. More than a year and I am STILL not over David Bowie's death. Light one up for the Starman yall.
>   * Don't Ask, Don't Tell was implemented in the Clinton administration, 1993 specifically in an attempt to make things better for LGB people in the military by protecting closeted queer people from discrimination while still allowing them to be kicked out if they are discovered or outed. There'd been a ban on gays and bis in the military since WWII so this was seen as a "step in the right direction" and "progress" and maybe if it hadn't been used as a fucking weapon it might have been. I personally know someone DADT'ed out. It was clear that it broke his heart, that he loved the Navy and that if his ex hadn't turned him in, he wouldn't have been around to tell me that story because he'd have still been serving. All that said, DADT would be relatively new for them at this point - in effect for about a year, maybe a little more or less, I'm not quite sure. At this point things would still have been being ironed out because, as a friend of mine who is the wife of an Army officer has told me, the Army isn't the best at getting things done in a timely manner - so some things to keep in mind about how lackadasical Goody is. He was in before DADT and it's still new for him, so I dont know that he and his guys are used to what it all means yet. Plus, his guys fucking know. 
>   * Something else to consider - Please do not forget where that puts us on the AIDS crisis timeline. Its the mid90s. People, gay men in particular but rising populations of all kinds, are dropping dead. So while sex is work for Billy and he's aware of these issues but still has to get the damn job done - the threat of HIV is something that Goody is acutely aware of as a gay man in the 90s and is a part of why he said no to the overture(although not as big a part as I Dont Kiss On the First Date :P)
>   * Last but CERTAINLY not least - mid-20s Goody and Billy (only, ya know, their hair would be different) 
> 



End file.
